


Sweet Nightmares (English Translation)

by mansionofmisters



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Blood, Fluff, French Writer, French to English Translation, French to english, Heavy Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Translation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansionofmisters/pseuds/mansionofmisters
Summary: Hi!! This is my first time translating a fic, and I had a lot of fun doing it. I'm incredibly grateful that I was given permission to translate this into English! Please, please, make sure that after you read this, you drop some comments and kudos on the original work!I did my best to preserve the integrity of the work while translating it into another language, and I think I did okay? I'm not exactly sure...Essentially, how I translated it was I copied the fic down, then did a rough translation, then I fiddled around with the word choices until I found things that fit better. English is an incredibly expressive language and there are so many words that have the same meaning... Whereas others, such as French, are different in that some things are, well, different. Haha, not sure where I'm going at this point.
Relationships: Fushimi Niki & Fushimi Saruhiko, Fushimi Saruhiko & Munakata Reishi, Fushimi Saruhiko & Suoh Mikoto, Fushimi Saruhiko & Yata Misaki, Fushimi Saruhiko/Hidaka Akira, Fushimi Saruhiko/Suoh Mikoto, Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	1. Vide (Empty)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katym/gifts).
  * A translation of [Sweet Nightmares](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606706) by [Katym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katym/pseuds/Katym). 



5:29 am. A man is laying on his bed, two meters (about six feet) from the floor, asleep. The room in which he lays contains only a bunk bed, a wardrobe, and a bathroom. No personal items, no unnecessary items. It was as if no one had ever lived there. 

This man is named Fushimi Saruhiko, 3rd in command of SCEPTER 4 and a ‘traitor’ of HOMRA. 

Beep. Beep. It’s 5:30 am. Saruhiko’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Mmm…” 

The alarm clock continues its wakeup call. His body turns and turns, and he buries his face deeper into the pillows. 

Beep beep bee- An arm shoots out of the covers under which the young man hid. He patted his bedside table for a moment until he found what he was looking for and pressed it. The alarm stops. His hand continues to search for something else and comes across a pair of glasses. He takes them and slides them onto his face. 

He rises into a sitting position. He runs a hand through his jet black hair and glances at the window. It’s still dark outside; he internally curses his superior. Why must he get up so early?

He gets up and fumbles around towards his bathroom. Once he reaches his destination he undresses, revealing a rather well-muscled torso. Then he turns on the shower, letting cold water pour over his skin. Having now done his chore, he ties a fluffy white towel around his waist. He rests his hands on his hips and stands in front of a mirror. He contemplates himself for a few moments. Pale skin, hair blacker than a starless night and deep blue eyes, though they were underlined with light circles. 

He sighs. 

Another day that begins… Still just as boring as the last. 

He leaves the bathroom, checks the time, and lies back down on his bed to catch a few more minutes of sleep, figuring that he still has enough time. 

When he finally awakens from ‘a few minutes’ of sleep, he lazily turns his head towards his now quiet alarm clock and notices that two hours have passed. 

Crap… I’m late… 

Not for the first time since he’d originally awoken, he sighs. He gets out of bed and begins to dress himself, although he’s not really in much of a hurry. Now in his SCEPTER 4-issued uniform, he leaves his room and heads towards the meeting room, still without haste. He lazily knocks on the large wooden door and enters, throwing a wave as he does so. 

“Sorry for the delay…”

In front of him is a group of tables placed to form a U shape. At the end of these tables sits a desk of oak wood, where a thinly built man sits, though behind his clothes a well-built torso hides. His hair looked to be ill-groomed, but it was in fact neat and the midnight-blue color goes wonderfully with his piercing violet eyes, which are masked by a pair of glasses with thin, silvery frames. A subtly mischievous smile floats upon his pale lips. His skin is milky in tone, not that he’s pale or ill, but it’s not a normal skin tone. His name is Munakata Reisi, the Blue King, also known as the Captain of SCEPTER 4.

The location of his desk also shows his status. It sits at the back of the room, thus having an overview of every occurence. Behind him stands a woman, her back as straight as a ruler. She is the only female in the room. Just as everyone else in the room does, she wears the obligatory blue uniform, although hers differs in that it ends at her thighs and shows off her large chest. Her stiff posture shows her uprightness of mind, as does her blonde hair, styled and arranged in two small, symmetrical buns, held in place by an ornate clip. She is the second in command of Munakata Reisi, Awashima Seri. 

As to the others present in the room, they were seated in the following order: on Saruhiko’s right were Akiyama Himori, Benzai Yujiro, and Kamo Ryuho. On his left were Enomoto Tatsuya, Fuse Daiki, and Goto Ren. 

Saruhiko stayed motionless for a moment, nothing that his superior had yet to make a comment on his tardiness. Then he reminds himself that he shouldn’t be disturbing the meeting and sits next to Himori, yawning the whole time. He waits for his assignments to be handed to him, as that’s what the meetings were generally for. 

Boring... I want to go... I want to sleep... I want to see Misaki... Mi-sa-ki... 

As he wonders why no one has spoken or done anything, for that matter, he notices that Domyoji Andy is still missing. He lets out another sigh. 

Well at least I’m not the last to arrive this time... 

A few seconds passed before a heavy door opened and showed a glimpse of Andy’s messy orange hair. He entered, letting the door slam shut behind him. He mumbled a faint excuse and hurried to his seat. 

“Good. Now that everyone is finally here, we can start,” declared the Blue King.

Reisi looked out of the corner of his eye for a moment, and Awashima takes this as an order to start passing out a stack of paper from the desk. She steps forward and distributes them to everyone. Except for Saruhiko. He frowns and is ready to complain, until he’s cut off by the Blue King, who resumes his explanations.

“A month ago, a neighborhood grocery store was vandalized. Since that incident, the burglars have done several other things, ranging from blackmail to robberies of major banks.”

“And how should that concern us?” asked Saruhiko, already tired of the situation. 

But his employer continues on ahead as if nothing had happened. 

“The last thing to have happened by their hands was the murder of a local jewelery store owner.”

“Pardon my interruption, sir, but shouldn’t we let the authorities handle this case? This doesn’t really fall into the domain of SCEPTER 4’s activities,” questions Tatsuya, somewhat shyly.

“The fact is that the victim was found frozen on the spot. We believe that a Strain is behind all of this, maybe even a whole group, if we count his acolytes. So, yes, it does concern us. You will have all of the information you need in the files Ms Awashima just handed out.”

At this announcement everyone looked down at their papers with more attention than they had had before. Save Saruhiko, who had still yet to receive any of these documents. The forgotten Clansman becomes more and more irritated. He gets ready to speak, again, and is cut off by his boss, again. 

“Kamo-san, Fuse-san, and Enomoto-san, you will be on patrol for today. I’m leaving it to you to decide how you choose to distribute yourselves. Please report anyone who seems suspicious, and if so, call backup immediately. Avoid any interaction with the Red Clan, HOMRA,” Reisi orders. 

“Yes, sir!” The three answered in a chorus of voices. Then they left. 

“What about us, sir?” asked Andy. 

“Akiyama-san, Domyoji-san, Goto-san and Benzai-san, you will help Awashima-can in the analysis of crime scenes, the interrogation of witnesses and the search for subjects. Any other questions?”

Fushimi slammed his fists onto the table and rose angrily. 

“I would like to know why you’re all ignoring me!!” He shouted, his voice echoing throughout the room. 

“No one has any questions? Fine, then, you are dismissed,” Reisi finishes, paying no mind to his subordinate.

The remaining members of the Special Police Force leave without a word. The man in glasses is now burning with fury.

“Oi, oi! I’m talking to you! OI!” He yells, his words aimed at Himori, who doesn’t flinch at all.

Saruhiko reaches out to touch his coworker’s shoulder, seeing that no one is responding to his complaints. His pupils widen in surprise when he reaches Himori’s shoulder. In fact, he reaches nothing at all, his hand only touches... Emptiness. Nothing. His hand crosses through the other man’s body, as if he were an illusion.

He stops all movement and raises his hand, looking at it, trembling. Then his gaze flicks back to the other people still in the room. 

“Oi... Oi! I’m her! OI!” he tries again, still in vain. 

He tries again and again. But each and every time he tries to touch someone, it goes straight through them. He no longer knows what to do. Sure, he can touch things around him, but no one sees these objects move. He spends the rest of the morning looking for someone who sees him, or even hears him, for that matter. But it turns out to just be a waste of his time. Seeing that nobody at SCEPTER 4 could see or hear him, he decided to go out and explore the city, hoping to find someone capable of solving his ‘problem’. 

An hour passes and still no one. He only passes through the passerby around him. He sighs. 

‘What am I even doing... Maybe I should head back to HQ... Ugh, so annoying...” 

Lost in thought, he glances around at the clear air. On his way back to the Headquarters, he overhears a conversation that jolts him out of his thoughts. The two interlocutors are two young civilian girls who observe with interest some graffiti on a wall. 

“Nee, nee, Aemi. What is this symbol? I’ve been seeing it all over the city’s walls. It’s everywhere,” one of the girls asks, turning to her friend. 

A symbol drawn on the city’s walls? It couldn’t be... 

“Huh? You’ve never heard of them?! They’re so well known around here! They’re this gang with a super-classy name!”

“Really? What is it?”

“They call themselves...”

‘HOMRA,’ Saruhiko thought. 

“HOMRA,” Aemi finished. 

“Oh, it’s that group of thugs led by this guy they refer to as a ‘king’. You should have seen him, he’s scary!”

“What are you talking about, Yuzuna? You act as if you’ve met him!”

“Well, it’s the truth!” Yuzuna protested. “I saw him like three months ago, walking down the street. No one dared to approach him, that’s how scary he is! The strangest thing, though, is that he was with this little girl!”

‘They’re talking about Anna...’

Saruhiko stopped listening to their conversation, an idea coming to mind. Anna was a Strain that wound up joining HOMRA. Maybe she could be of some help to him? Help... From the Red Clan... 

‘Nope, nope! Bad idea.’

He shook his head to clear away the thought. 

‘But it’s the only option if I want to know what’s wrong with me...’ 

Faced with this reality, he surrenders, turning on his heels to head towards the base of operations of the Red Clan, a bar run by the second in command, Kusanagi Izumo. After a few minutes, he arrived at his destination, stopping in front of the building. The bar is on the corner of a street, and above the bar hangs a sign displaying its name, and the name of the gang inside. The door is made of polished red wood, as is just about everything else inside. A Western-style building, as it was largely imported from England.

Saruhiko stares at the door intensely. Even though his face seems calm, an inner battle rages on. 

‘Is it really a good idea to just waltz in there? But no one can see me, right? And what am I supposed to do if Anna can?’

Minutes pass and he still has yet to take the few steps towards the bar’s door. A blond man in a hoodie and another with his hair gelled back enter the building, interrupting his thoughts. He decides to go and gently pushes the door open, unconsciously trying to delay the deadline.

The room, although it isn’t crowded, is not empty. The owner and bartender, Kusanagi Izumo, is behind his precious bar, cleaning a glass. Typical. The man is tall, taller than his king, and has dark blond hair and hazel eyes, which are hidden by a pair of lilac-tinted sunglasses. He wears his usual white shirt and a maroon scarf around his neck. His outfit and attitude are the most normal out of everyone at HOMRA.

‘He’s the only acceptable one, in fact, so I guess that’s why the captain summons him whenever these idiots are causing problems...’

Saruhiko continues his inspection of the room. On the right side of the room, sitting at tables against the wall, on upholstered red chairs sit the two men that Saruhiko saw enter, talking in hushed voices. 

‘Eric Surt and Fujishima Kosuke... How do they even sit like that? Such barbarians... Typical of HOMRA.’

Having inspected the right side of the room, Saruhiko continues his search for the small girl named Anna. His gaze turns to the other side of the room, opposite of where his former comrades slumped. His breath stopped for a few seconds.

‘Him...’

On this side of the room, there is a sofa, also red, where a man, barely past 20, one with an imposing glare, is lying down. He has his arms crossed behind his head, and seems to be deeply sleeping. His red hair is tousled and pointed, and Saruhiko knows that behind his closed eyelids hide amber eyes. This person is the most powerful out of the entire band of thugs (according to Saruhiko). His name is... 

‘Suoh Mikoto, the Red King. The one who stole Misaki away from me.’

At that thought, he clenched his teeth and shot the man a glare. It was at this moment that the man in question turned over onto his side, flipping around into a more comfortable position. At this, Saruhiko takes a step back, slightly startled. He feels a quiet shiver of fear. It is then that he notices a small, white-haired girl sitting at the edge of the piece of furniture. Her name is Kushina Anna, the ‘princess’ of HOMRA.

Her dark eyes stare at red beads on the coffee table. They are incredibly calm. Her straight hair descends gracefully down to the small of her back, contrasting her dark dress. Her skin is also pale, even more so than that of the Blue King. Her clothes don’t match what a girl her age would normally wear. Anna dresses like a Lolita, with a frilly dress covered in ribbons in shades of red and black. This is how she got the nickname ‘princess’, Saruhiko surmised. 

This ‘princess’ turns her head to look at Saruhiko. Her gaze is piercing, as if she saw straight to the depths of his soul. His thoughts. His feelings. He felt all of it. It was quite startling, for something of that intensity to be coming from a girl so small. 

Thinking that perhaps she could see him, he opened his mouth to give an explanation, though the little Lolita took him by surprise when she spoke instead.

“Tatara...” she whispered. 

The Blue Clansman feels a presence cross through him. 

“I’m home!” he answers cheerfully.

“Where did you run off to this time?” Izumo asked from the bar. 

“I bought some delicious cakes from a local bakery!” Tatara moved towards the bar, setting his coat on one of the bar’s stools. 

Totsuka Tatara is the weakest member of HOMRA, the most harmless by an incredibly long shot. He is a young man in a never-ending good mood, and likely the only person alive who can calm his king when an outburst of anger overtakes the redhead. His eyes are an ordinary shade of brown, but they shine with childish mischief and joy. His light brown hair falls down to the middle of his neck, harmonizing perfectly with his eyes and skin, which is neither pale nor tan. His clothes are very simple, like usual. He is dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, although he also wears an assortment of bracelets. A small earring glints from the cartilage of his left ear.

Tatara is never without his camera. He is incredibly fond of cinema and videos, today being no exception to that. He begins to chat with Izumo and Anna.

Saruhiko has already stopped listening. His face is frozen in a grin, showing his boredom. He runs a hand through his jet-black hair, embarrassed by the situation he’d gotten himself into.

It was stupid of him to believe that HOMRA would be able to help him. 

A sigh of boredom escaped his lips.

‘I have to go back to HQ...’ 

With that intent, he spins on his heels, showing his hands in his pockets. But then something catches his attention.

There’s a set of old photos posted on one wall of the bar. But the one that interests Saruhiko is one from the time in which he still frequented HOMRA. 

‘When I was still with Misaki,’ he thinks. 

The photo was taken during a summer festival. He remembers it clearly because it was one of the few times that he had laughed. It was just so funny how Misaki kept complaining about his inability to catch even a single goldfish. 

“You were so cute. Nee, Mi-sa-ki~” he mumbles to himself. 

He remembers the scene. Kamamoto Rikio, Misaki and himself were crouching in front of the stand, with Tatara leaning over them. Mikoto and Izumo stood farther back. 

But something was off about this photograph. It shows the scene, but something is missing. Rikio and Misaki were the only ones crouched there. Saruhiko had disappeared. 

He inspected the other photos, noticing that he doesn’t appear in any of them. Not on Christmas, nor on Misaki’s birthday. Nothing. Niet. Nada.

He remains stunned for a few moments as he stares at this discovery, incredulous.

‘What...?’

It was then that he began to understand. He remained frozen in place, terrified by the appalling reality that slowly began to take hold of his mind. He was so captivated by this discovery that he didn’t hear the tinkling bells announcing that someone had just entered the bar. He didn’t move from his statue-like position until a familiar voice echoed throughout the room. The greeting is energetic and joyful, matching perfectly to the redhead who had shouted it. Saruhiko turns to this person whom he could recognize in a crowd of a thousand different people. 

A whisper escapes his throat. 

“Misaki...”

Momentarily forgetting his state in which one could only consider that of a ghost, a crooked smile lifts the corners of his lips. A name echoes around in his head, blurring his thoughts and pushing away his rationality.

Misaki. Misaki. Misaki. Misaki. 

Almost like a mantra. 

The redhead slowly advanced towards him, opening his mouth to launch into a tirade of insults. 

“Misa-”

He is cut off when the redhead crosses through him, just like everyone else had. 

But this time, it’s different. Because this time, he felt something inside of him break. 

A feeling of loneliness invaded him, freezing his whole body. Panic quickly took possession of his mind. 

In his last attempt to make people react to his presence, he knocks over the tables, breaks glasses, and howls at the top of his lungs. His cries are desperate, broken. And still nobody sees or hears him. He is but a ghost, a shadow. An imperceptible background noise. 

He doesn’t exist. He didn’t exist. He will never exist. 

‘I am nothing.’

He collapses in the middle of the bar, in the midst of all these people who don’t see him. His pale hands shake violently, and his breathing becomes irregular with a mixture of fear and anxiety. He tries to comfort himself by wrapping his arms around his torso. 

He can’t believe it. He doesn’t want to believe it. 

A silent tear runs down his cheek... And then he opens his eyes. 

♦ ♦ ♦

Still shaken by his nightmare, his breath is jerky and uneven. His body and sheets are soaked with a cold sweat. He slowly takes a deep breath and releases it with a sigh. 

‘That one was particularly violent.’

He climbs out of bed and heads towards the bathroom with the intent to take a shower. 

Saruhiko no longer remembers the last time he dreamed. Sometimes he wonders if he’d ever dreamed before. He’d only ever had nightmares his entire life. Save the time he had spent with Misaki, when he hadn’t really dreamt of anything. But the sweet dreams, the ones that would make most people happy, are completely unknown to him. Over the years, he had even gone as far as hating to sleep. His colleagues would complain that he works too much and spends most nights sitting in front of his computer. 

He tenses up as cold water flows over his head. 

‘At least I’m awake.’

The water becomes hotter and hotter until it reaches a suitable temperature. He then sits on the floor of the tub, his knees pressed to his chest, water still flowing over his body. He thinks back to the nightmare, memories surfacing. Those feelings he felt makes his heart feel tight. He looks up, letting the warm beads of water trickle down his face. 

He secretly hopes that it’ll erase these feelings of emptiness inside of him.


	2. Doute (Doubt)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had fun translating this one, even though it was really sad. I hope that you enjoy it too~! 
> 
> If you would like to insult my translation skills, that's fine, but please don't insult the work in itself- that would be incredibly rude to the original author and I doubt that anyone would appreciate that.

Saruhiko is fed up.

He's cold, he's tired, Domyoji talks too much and he wants nothing more than to go back to HQ. The rest of the year, Saruhiko just corrects and rewrites tons upon tons of report pages, and the Captain had to send him out on patrol in the middle of winter. 

In winter. The season he hates the most, well, aside from summer. His uniform is too light for such a season, and he still has yet to figure out how to take care of himself, so he didn’t wear anything warm. 

He pulls up the collar of his shirt, his hands frozen and stiff. He stuffs them deep into his pockets, his breath coming out foggily. He shivers from the cold. 

"Fushimi-san, are you cold?"

“Huh? "

His coworker is now looking at him, visibly worried.

“Fushimi-san, are you chilly?”

“Tch. Shut up,” he growls, irritated.

It’s not that he’s chilly, it’s that he detests the cold weather. 

Domyoji still doesn't seem convinced. It was then that he noticed a nearby stand selling hot drinks. 

"Wait here ! I'm going to get us some coffee.” The redhead dashed off with a quick wave. 

“Hey! Tch... ”

He doesn’t have any time to object to Domyoji as he dashed off. He doesn't chase him, though. If you want to offer him nice, hot black coffee, he wouldn’t refuse. But he probably wouldn’t say yes either.

A flash of orange catches his eye. He barely has time to turn his head when the young redheaded man on a skateboard disappears into an alley. Saruhiko immediately knows who this person is. An incredibly noisy and annoying little virgin, the vanguard of the Red Clan: Yatagarasu. 

‘Misaki~’ he thinks. 

The Blue Clansman then suddenly had a desperate urge to play with his favorite redhead. Ignoring Domyoji, who is still waiting at the stand. He runs off towards the alleyway in which Yata had just disappeared into. 

He manages to catch him somehow. 

"Mi-Sa-Ki ~ "

The name rolls on his tongue. It's familiar, just like the crooked smile that appears on his face. The other man stops suddenly, surprised. He turns around and anger takes its place on his face. An aura of disgust combined with pure hatred fills the air. The redhead tenses up, seemingly ready for a fight. He restrains himself, though. 

“You shouldn't Misaki ~ I want everything from you. Can't you give me your love? So give me your hate,” Saruhiko teased.

"Huh? It's just the damn monkey. Who do you want to betray this time?!”

“Well then, Misaki ~ What are you doing out here all alone? Did you finally see how pathetic HOMRA could be so you decided to leave?"

He knew that Misaki was not alone because he had left HOMRA (it would be physically impossible for that to happen), but the insult would tick him off, Saruhiko was sure of it. He knew him so well. There was a time when they knew each other as well. But then Saruhiko left. 

"What’d you say, monkey?! I forbid you to insult HOMRA or Mikoto-san!”

The flames begin to dance in his eyes, the red aura covering him, responding to the call of his anger. Just a little more, a few words and that would be enough to get him completely riled up.

"But I am only telling the truth, Misaki~ Your king and your clan are nothing but good-for-nothings who only broadcast their ‘pride’ by speaking of ‘family’. So ridiculous, y’know...”

His smile still floats upon his lips. Twisted, evil, stranger. Misaki's red aura has just exploded, surrounding his body with burning flames. He rushes towards him, skateboard wheels rolling. The hour of combat has struck.

Finally.

"SARU!!! "

The fight is fierce. No one really has the advantage. The goal is not to hurt, nor is it to win. The fight serves to humiliate, to put the other back in his place. Between them such fights were only games. A kind of morbid dance, punctuated by madness and anger. A wild mix of blue and red.

It is familiar. Almost comforting, in a way. They’d fight, then their respective guardians (Awashima and Kusanagi) would bring them back to order. Sometimes one of the two leaves with a small scratch, rarely something big. A small cut on the shoulder on the cheek. Saruhiko is proud that he can say that Misaki is often the one who has them.  
The dance continues. Sword, parry, knife throwing, dodge, parry, counter-attack. Misaki finds himself in a cloud of smoke, thus hiding him from Saruhiko’s view. The Blue Clansman threw a knife, only one. Why not two or more like he usually did? He doesn’t quite know. At the time one seemed fine. Saruhiko knows that Misaki will dodge, maybe he’d catch the knife or send it away with a spinning kick. 

And then the smoke dissipated.

The throw had been simple, yet specific. Fast. But easy to dodge.

He should have avoided it. But he didn’t.

Saruhiko saw red. Flame red. Pink red. Evening red. Morning red.

Blood red.

The red Misaki always loved so much now colors his chest. The shock was visible on his face. Mixed in was misunderstanding and pain, so much pain. 

"Saruhiko...?" Why...? ”

His eyes roll back, his falling to the ground. A red spot is rapidly spreading across his chest.

Saruhiko doesn’t move. His hands are trembling, his body shaking. Horror and fear are etched in his blue eyes. He’s frozen in horror. He wants to move, to say something. He must move, try to save him, call for help. But he cannot bring himself to. Eternity seems to pass before he can even make a single movement. All he can do is take a single shaky step before falling onto his knees in shock. 

He doesn’t feel the pain. His gaze never left the body on the ground before him, not once. The body of the first person to have ever really believed in him, to take care of him, to give him importance. To love him. The body of the only person he ever loved.

Misaki's body.

And he killed him.

‘I would have Misaki. I would have Misaki. I would have Misaki. I would have Misaki. I would have Misaki. I would have Misaki.’

He will have to live with this burden, the weight of his crime. He won’t be able to survive.

His sword is right next to him, having fallen from his hand in the silence of his shock. The blade sparkles. Subaru (his sword) is beautiful. She calls him. Blackness calls him. Peace calls him. Misaki calls him.

He takes the sword. His face is reflected on the blade. His eyes are red and puffy. Did he cry? Perhaps. If so, he hadn’t noticed it.

His two hands clasp on the guard. He looks one last time at the body in front of him.

Then he answers the call.

♦ ♦ ♦

He wakes up with a start. It’s way too early. It is still dark.

It is still dark.

His first reflex is to put his hand on his chest. No blood, no injuries. Then he looks around. It takes a few minutes for him to remember where he is. He’s in his room, in the dormitory of SCEPTER 4. He calms down. It takes him a few more minutes to remember his dream.

‘Misaki...’

Calmness starts again. He knows it was just a dream, a stupid dream at that. He notices his PDA on the nightstand. Everyone is sleeping, too. But he must have left the bell on in an emergency.

‘It's just a stupid dream.’

Yet he still reaches down, takes his PDA, and enters the number he knows by heart. He makes sure to hide his number. His thumb hovers over the call button. He hesitates, not sure if he should.

‘This is stupid.’

He puts the phone down, and gets ready to go back to sleep when he sees them. Laying next to his belongings, normally hidden but there clearly visible under the weak moonlight.

His knives.

The ones who killed Misaki.

He grabs his PDA and presses the call button.

It rings once. Twice. Thrice. Four times... 

“What is it?” Yata grumbles, the sound of sheets rustling in the background. 

He immediately hangs up and quickly erases all traces of his call and lies back down on his bed. Misaki is alive. He heard his voice. His magnificent and yet somehow irritating voice. Misaki is fine. He is fine.

He knows it.

However, he cannot prevent them. They go up to his throat, grab his thoughts and keep him awake until morning. It is only when he sees him again that he is finally freed from the clutches of fear and doubt.


	3. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love how Hidaka was written as such a sweetheart in this chapter. It was really fun to translate, minus where Niki was being, well... Niki. I hated him so much in Lost Small World smh

When Saruhiko opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the color white. A white ceiling. He notices that his back hurts, as does his neck.

He knows where he is. Shizume General Hospital, opposite a convenience store and next to a bakery. More specifically, the hospital’s morgue. He knows where he is, but not how he got there, although that isn’t really that important. What’s more important is that he also knows why he is there. 

He raises his head and glances at the metal door in front of him. He doesn’t know how long he’s been there, although it was probably a long time, since he had fallen asleep. The seat is quite uncomfortable and incredibly inappropriate to take a nap on, so he tries to get into a more comfortable position to soothe the stiffness in his back.

He is waiting. He notices that his PDA is not in his pocket, which is strange. He sighs in boredom. He waits. 

He finally decides to get up, and walks around the corridors in search of a coffee machine, or someone who could tell him where he is. He does find a machine, but doesn’t meet anyone on his way there. It doesn’t worry him in the slightest, but he feels that it should. 

He wants to buy a coffee, but surprisingly has no change on him. 

“Tch...” 

He lightly kicks the machine, causing a can of coffee to fall down to where he can retrieve it. He does so without any sort of hesitation and returns to the morgue, sitting in the spot where he had been lying not long ago. He waits. 

The long wait is really starting to exasperate him. His fingers drum a rapid pattern on his knee. Then his foot starts tapping on the ground, and he clicks his tongue several times. 

Suddenly a noise breaks the silence, something like a glass falling to the ground, minus the shattering noises that would indicate it breaking. Saruhiko hears the sound of it hitting the ground, then the first rebound, quickly followed by the second and the third, and finally the soft rolling of the glass on the ground.

He looks in the direction of the noise, beyond the metal door, which is still there, as imposing and cold as ever. 

He stares at it for a few moments, not moving. Is he hesitating? Absolutely. Does he know why? Flame or anguish, he cannot differentiate. 

Finally he gets up, instinctively stuffing his hands in his pockets. He quickly takes three strides to the door. He grabs the handle, which is cold, although that does not surprise him in the least. 

Then he enters. 

If the hallway was cold, then the morgue is made of ice. He can see his frozen breath as it leaves his mouth, and he’s sure that his lips have already taken on a slightly blue tint.

The cold was the first thing he noticed upon his entrance. The second was the body lying in front of him. 

It is that of a man somewhere between 25 and 30 years old, roughly the same size as Saruhiko. That’s what he can say about the body covered in the white sheet. The face is also covered, although dark hair escapes from beneath it.

The body is the reason for his coming. He is there to freeze his fingers because that damn woman could not return on time, leaving him to be the only remaining member of his family.

Then again, this man was not his family. This man was and never was in his family. He had no family. 

(Even for him those words sounded incredibly wrong.)

He doesn’t know why, but despite the hatred he has for this man, he cannot help but move closer to the body. His footsteps are slow and heavy, deafeningly loud in the silence of the room. 

His heart starts to skip a beat, gaining speed. It feels as noisy and as heavy as his footsteps. 

He continues to walk forward, each second feeling like an eternity. His eyes never leave the white sheet in front of him. He only leaves this world he has become trapped in once his foot hits something that rolls away in a quiet tinkling noise. 

He looks down, seeing that the object has disappeared under the iron table. He kneels down to retrieve it.

The object in question is a small jar, which Saruhiko picks up. It’s just a simple glass jar, clean and lacking any scratches or deformities. It’s quite ordinary as far as jars go. He decides to leave, and looks up. 

A hand carelessly hangs along the side of the table, the hand of a dead man. This hand holds a Rubik’s Cube. The puzzle is solved, and rough drawings cover each of the puzzles square faces. It’s his Rubik’s cube. The one his father destroyed so many times just to rebuild it and destroy it again. And again. And again. 

The cube falls from the corpse’s grip, landing first on the blue side before leaning to the red side. It rests on the yellow side. 

Saruhiko hasn’t moved, instead carefully observing each rotation of the cube, without a breath, without a movement, without a word. He didn’t even notice that the jar had slipped from his fingers, falling back to the ground. 

He stands suddenly, banging his head. He ignores the pain. He first must know something.

Niki has not moved. Not a single fold of the white sheet has moved, except that of the left arm, which hangs down. No breath lifts the blanket. 

‘He is dead. This man is dead. What are you afraid of?’

Saruhiko shakes his head as if to shake away his dark thoughts. He is fed up with this hospital. Not a single person besides the body is in sight, not even after Saruhiko has waited for hours, and now... 

‘It’s good, I’m just going to go take a break. If this woman has a problem with that, then she can just come herself.’

“Tch.”

He puts his hands back in his pockets, turning to leave. He is angry, and all he wants is to leave this godforsaken place. It’s cold. Too cold. 

He cannot hear the rustling of sheets behind him, nor can he hear the bare feet on the floor. He doesn’t hear them. But he hears that laugh. 

“Ah ha ha ha!!!”

He freezes. He cannot move. He doesn’t even know if he’s breathing as the laughter gets closer and closer to where he stands. It turns more mocking, more cruel. Saruhiko is still unable to move. 

“The little monkey came to see his beloved father? How cute~ So should I welcome it as it should be... Right? Sa- Ru- Hi- KO!”

‘It’s just a hallucination. There is nothing behind you. It’s only in your head!’

He wants those words to be true. They must be true, they have to. The dead cannot come back to life.

‘This man is dead. He died and he will never come back.’

Despite this, he still feels arms wrap around his shoulders and neck, like snakes about to strangle their prey. Yes, just like predators aiming to kill. 

It’s slow, scary, and he cannot prevent it. He cannot shake them off. 

Saruhiko is afraid. He knows it. He is completely and utterly terrified. His body is frozen, just as much imprisoned by those arms as his own dread.

The arms are cold. Soon he feels breath down his neck, then behind his ear. 

“Come on, my little monkey... aren’t you happy? We’re going to be able to have more fun for just a little longer... Maybe we should invite your little friend, y’know... That redheaded boy.”

Saruhiko squirms, trying to get out of the toxic grip he was trapped within, but the arms around him were strangely strong. He cannot leave this prison. 

“Actually, no! I just had an even better idea. Why don’t we play with that little Blue boy? Y’know, the one that follows you everywhere like a little dog. We could set him a trap. Three or four beta level Strains in an isolated location, a false summons, maybe a little phone hack... And voila! I wonder how long he would last? Not you? Huh, my little monkey?”

Saruhiko starts to tremble. He’s still trying to escape, but the noose is tightening.

‘How does he know? How does he know?! No no no!’

“Huh! So how long would he last?! Not long, I would say. Then we will find his body in porridge and we will laugh! We will laugh at the body that YOU destroyed, Saruhiko! Because YOU left, because YOU left me for dead, because YOU destroy everything that YOU touch! This little dog, this Hidaka Akira, that YOU burned! I would love for you to watch him die, to see the flames in his eyes go out. Believe me, there is nothing more pathetic than the look of a beaten dog! AH HA HA HA!”

And he laughs. He’s laughing, laughing out loud. Saruhiko wants to throw up. Once again, he’s going to lose something precious to him. Again! Because of this man! 

In a final struggle, he succeeds in breaking free from the human chains that bound him. And he runs. He runs towards the metal door of the morgue, he runs towards the exit, towards safety. 

To where?

But Niki catches up with him. His hand is quickly on his shoulder and he turns his son around quickly. The violence in the gesture sends Saruhiko tumbling to the ground. He doesn’t even have enough time to realize what happened before two hands are already wrapped around his neck. 

And they squeeze it.

He cannot breathe. He struggles, clawing at the fingers around his neck, stamping his feet, but the vise is too strong.

He had always been stronger.

“My little monkey~ Did you think I would let you escape like that? Where did you plan on going? Stay with me, monkey! Come see me! Didn’t you want to see me dead?! So come and die with me!!!”

His lungs are burning and his head is spinning. He needs air. And yet there is nothing he can do. This situation has rendered him completely helpless. 

Just like always. 

Black dots approach the corners of his vision. He feels as if he is already leaving his body. His thoughts are already fading. 

‘I’m going to die and he’s going to go after Misaki, SCEPTER 4... Akira... And all of that will be my fault, because I wasn’t strong enough. Not strong enough against him, not strong enough against myself, not strong enough against my desires. I love and destroy, until there is nothing left. My love is poison.’

He can no longer hold his own. His vision turns black, and he hears the last echo of a laugh. 

‘I should never have been able to love.’ 

♦ ♦ ♦

His eyes suddenly fly open. The room is still plunged in darkness. His body trembles slightly, and is drenched in sweat. His heart is being so hard that it feels as if it might beat out of his chest. He’s afraid of waking the person laying next to him.

His presence is warm, comforting. His arm is draped over Saruhiko’s hips, holding him limply against his naked chest. He breathes gently. Evidently Hidaka Akira’s sleep hasn’t been disturbed by the brutal awakening of his companion. His face is serene. It should be sweet, pleasant, but Saruhiko can’t help but feel a hint of pain piercing his heart, nor can he help the wave of fear coming up his throat. It’s too nice. Too good. Too good for him. 

He needs to take a shower. 

He gets up and slowly goes to the bathroom, taking a change of clothes on his way there. All the way his body trembles and he hugs his arms around his chest, trying in vain to calm the jolts. He collapsed against the bathroom door as soon as he entered, his shivering legs no longer able to carry him. 

He stays there for a few minutes, in the dark, curled up on himself, trying to calm his breathing. He winds up getting up. He undresses and gets in the shower, turning on the water. 

It’s cold. 

‘Like the room. Like his body. Like me.’

He doesn’t adjust the temperature. The cold water cleanses sweat, cleanses sleep, cleanses fog. It cleanses his body, but not his mind. 

He turns off the water. He gets out, dries off quickly, and puts on his change of clothes. The supposedly soft sweater feels strangely rough on his skin. He subconsciously scratches at a scar on his collarbone. He finally leaves the bathroom after a moment, changed and with a towel around his neck. 

To his surprise, Hidaka is sitting, fully awake on the floor near the coffee table in the middle of the room. His chest is no longer bare, as he had put on a t-shirt at one point. 

“The sound of the shower woke me up,” he said, answering the unasked question. 

Saruhiko doesn’t answer. The words are stuck in his throat. 

“Your hair is still wet, let me dry it for you.” 

Still without a word, Saruhiko goes forward and sits down before him. Hidaka takes the towel from around his neck and begins to dry his hair. It’s comfortable, familiar, soft. Hidaka’s hands are large and warm. Neither of them speak. With his head hanging forwards slightly, black hair hiding his eyes, Saruhiko looks at Hidaka. 

Hidaka’s hair is messy, and a slight smile adorns his lips. He is completely absorbed in his task, though his eyes are still slightly veiled by sleepiness. 

He is handsome. 

Yes, he is very handsome. The most beautiful part of his face is the brown shade of his eyes, a chocolate brown that melts at the sight of the person in front of him, in front of someone he cares about. 

It’s a look of love.

‘YOU destroy everything YOU touch.”

His father’s voice suddenly comes back to him. Of course he destroys everything he touches. It’s always been like this. He destroys everything. If not today, then tomorrow. One day, he will destroy this hair, this face, this look. This love. It’s simply just a matter of time. 

‘One day I will destroy you,’ Saruhiko thinks. 

He looks up. Hidaka moves his hands, seeing that Saruhiko’s hair is dry enough. Saruhiko still doesn’t look at him, his face still hidden by his now mostly-dry hair. Hidaka is clearly waiting for his boyfriend to speak. But time goes by without a single word, so he finally opens his mouth to start to ask if Saruhiko is okay, though he is quickly cut off.

“Let’s separate.”

The words tumble out of Saruhiko’s mouth. It takes Hidaka by surprise, and a few seconds for him to comprehend what was said. Had he heard correctly?

“What?”

“Let’s break up.”

The answer is said much more slowly, but with just as much confidence. Despite the gravity within his words, Saruhiko doesn’t seem to have moved even a single millimeter. 

Hidaka doesn’t seem to know what to say. Thousands of questions echo around in his heads, almost like a cacophony that’s impossible to calm. Yet despite the tumult, one question echoes stronger than the others. It’s a simple question, but it’s already on the tip of his tongue, screaming through his eyes. 

“Why?”

He wants to know, needs to know. Why? Why? Are they not happy together? Are they not in love? What did he do wrong? How long has Saruhiko been thinking about it? Why today, why now? Why?!

‘Because I am bad. Because by my side you will be broken. Because you deserve so much better than I can offer. Because I am not meant to be loved. Because you are too good for me. Because you shouldn’t have to put up with somebody like me breaking up with you like this. Because I shouldn’t love you. Because I prefer to see your tears rather than your fall. Because I would prefer that you live happily away from me rather than live devastated by my side. Because you will never find happiness with me.’

‘Because I love you. So much so that it hurts.’

Saruhiko doesn’t answer. But he does look up, meeting Hidaka’s eyes. The latter looks devastated, his skin pale. His lower lip trembles, and Saruhiko can see the tears forming at the corners of those lovely eyes. 

A hand touches Saruhiko’s left forearm, making him shiver slightly.

“Say something, damn it... Saruhiko...”

‘I have to finish this. Before it becomes too late.’ 

It takes him a few seconds before he can open his mouth again.

“I think that it’s the best option for us. We aren’t compatible enough. It can’t work.”

“But it’s worked so far, why should it have to change now?”

“We both know it won’t last.”

“You’re wrong.”

Hidaka gently places a hand on his cheek. It is soft, so sweet that Saruhiko wants to lean into the contact. But he must restrain himself.

“No matter the obstacles, no matter the fights, no matter what happens to be in store tomorrow, I want to be by your side at all times.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Hidaka’s response was so direct and spontaneous that Saruhiko almost believed it. Instead, he squeezes his wrist and moves the hand away from his cheek, looking away. He won’t be able to say those words if he looks him straight in the eyes. He won’t be able to bear those tears that he knows will run down Hidaka’s cheeks, the pain that will be visible in his face and the pain that will be evident in the eyes that Saruhiko loves so much. 

‘At first it will be painful, but you will be fine. Because I will no longer be there to poison you. You will be happy. Far from me, but happy.’

“Well, not me.”

The words burn his throat. The lie is so incredibly hard to pronounce, but it succeeds without fail. He still doesn’t look at the other man’s face, as he already knows what he will see there. 

“You’re lying.”

Out of all the reactions Saruhiko had expected of him, that was not one of them. Yet he already knew that one of the stages of mourning was denial, so it made a little sense. 

“No, I am not.”

He finally decides to raise his head, this time to prove his point more firmly, though he cannot do so. He had expected Hidaka’s face to be twisted with grief and denial, but that was not what he saw. Instead he saw a look of anger and determination. It is Saruhiko who is destabilized, not Hidaka. 

“You’re lying.”

“I said, no, I am not...”

It is then that a pair of lips are pressed against his, cutting off his words. The kiss is tender, and Saruhiko finds himself enjoying the touch of lips before he starts to lean away from it, but a hand on his neck and another on the back of his head prevent him from doing so. The kiss becomes more insistent and a tongue slides into his mouth. The air becomes hotter, more suffocating, and when Hidaka finally pulls away they are both red and out of breath. 

Still without moving his hands, Akira touches foreheads with Saruhiko. 

“You’re a liar.”

This time, he doesn’t deny it. Was the lie that obvious?

“Why?”

Despite being used so much, this question was still very hard to answer. 

Saruhiko could lie. It had become almost like a second nature to him, lying. He always lied, half of the time it was a lie that came out of his mouth. But this time he knows that even the best lie could not deceive the other. The eyes in front of him pierce through all of his walls, see through those barriers that it took him years to erect. He cannot lie to those eyes, those beautiful eyes. 

So he gives in to it, that look. 

“Because I destroy everything I care about. Everything I love will one day be destroyed. It’s better if we end this before I destroy it.”

Hidaka doesn’t answer. His eyes carefully search Saruhiko’s face, his brows furrowing slightly.

“You had another nightmare, didn’t you?”

The slight thrill he feels beneath his fingers confirms Hidaka’s suspicions. He buries his lover’s head in his chest, whispering in his ear. 

“I don’t know what exactly you dreamed of, or who told you such an awful thing, and I’m not going to ask you. But I will remind you that it was just a dream. Everything that happened here was a dream. Here, in reality, you are with me. And no one, I mean no one, has the right to take you away from me.”

Two hands go behind his back, gripping his t-shirt. Hidaka kisses his dark hair as a response. 

They stay like that for a few seconds, enveloped in the warmth of the other’s body.

“He is dead. Years ago.”

Nothing more is said. Hidaka doesn’t need anymore to be said, so he gets up and leads Saruhiko back to their bed. They climb in, legs already tangled, Saruhiko’s face nestled into Hidaka’s shirt, breathing in the sweet smell of detergent. Hidaka pulls a blanket over their bodies and wraps his arms around the man nestled against him. 

They start to fall asleep. 

They both already know that there will be more nights like this. Other nightmares. Other ghosts. But this is something that they can worry about when the situation arises.

But as for now, in the present moment, they sleep in the arms of the one that they love. 

In the sweetest of silences.


End file.
